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MR. WEBSTER'S 



ANDOVER ADDRESS 



A?n> 



HIS POLITICAL COURSE 



WHILK 



SECRETARY OF STATE. 



The Publishers hare no authority to designate the authorship of the following pages ; but from 
various circumstances, they infer the probability, that they were written by 

PROF. v STUART, OF ANDOVER. 



i: 



ESSEX COUNTY 
PUBLISHED FOR DISTRIBUTION 

1844. 



MR. WEBSTER 



AND THE 



AN DOVER ADDRESS 



NUMBER I. 



The writer of the remarks which follow was present at the mass meeting in Andover, and 
heard the address which is designated by the inscription above. He has seen various criti- 
cisms in the public journals on the performance in question. With some of these he agrees 
for substance in opinion, while from others he feels himself obliged widely to dissent. In 
respect to those criticisms, (if they may be so called), which exhibit merely the feelings of 
party violence and rancour, he has little or nothing to say ; as they are not founded on any 
sober inquiry into the merits of Mr. Webster's performance, much less on any aesthetical 
principles of judgment and decision, they do not demand, for the present purposes of the 
writer of these remarks, any distinctive notice or recognition. In what way, indeed, will 
anv thinking and judicious man undertake to refute mere railing accusations ? Will he 
make use of argument ? No argument, nor even demonstration, would have any weight 
with the authors of such accusations. Their decisions proceed merely from violence of 
feelino- and party bitterness. How can this be controlled by argumentative criticism ? The 
truth is, that the greater a man's merits are who is opposed to their views, and the more 
distinguished his performance is, the more do they rail, and the more severe is their sentence 
of condemnation. It would be a hopeless task to oppose candid reasoning and fair argu- 
ment to criticisms of this cast. One could only "revile again" in return for reviling, an 
undertaking in which, on grounds of propriety, decency, self-respect, and peaceable demea- 
nor, the writer of these remarks can never consent to engage. 

In some journals, however, conducted in general with* decorum and regard to the proprie- 
ties of social intercourse and private feeling, there seems to be an inclination quite manifest 
to put Mr. Webster's Andover Address below his former efforts of a similar nature, "in the 
palmy days of Whig exertions and Whig triumphs which preceded the election of General 
Harrison." No controversy with the writers of these criticisms is designed on the present 
occasion. But as they have taken the liberty freely to express their opinion, it may be law- 
ful, in a "land of liberty," to express another opinion somewhat different from theirs. The 
ultimate appeal must of course be to that part of the public, who have both the power of 
forming a critical judgment and the candor which is necessary to form it correctly. To 
them the writer of the following remarks will most cheerfully submit. 

It may not be improper to state here, that the writer in the present case has no connection 
whatever, either with the public journals, or with any canvassing for political office. He 
never souo-ht or held any office whatever, of a political nature, which it was in the power of 
the government or of the people to bestow. He never expects to seek or receive one. At 
all events, then, his remarks are not prompted by the hopes of promotion, or of the emolu- 
ments which flow from it. And as to the journals which, when embarked in any particular 
course, are reluctant to swerve from it, the present writer has no other interest in them than 
what their value excites, and no particular favoritism toward the course which any one of 
them pursues. Some of them he regards as entitled to his sincere approbation. 

Having thus declared who he is not, he may, without farther preface, proceed to make 
some remarks, premising only that he shall, for convenience sake, and to avoid formality, 
employ the first person instead of the third, in the remainder of his communication. 

It was my lot, as I have already hinted, to be present at the great meeting in Andover. 
And a great one it trulv was. Notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, I mean the 
severe cold which sank the thermometer nearly to freezing point at mid-day, the yeomanry 



from the neighborhood poured in to listen to the Address. There were, moreover, nearly a 
thousand persons from Boston and Salem, of whom were many leading characters among the 
Whigs. But notwithstanding the coldness of the weather, there were some propitious cir- 
cumstances attending the day. The sun shone brightly, and the air was serene ; and this 
state of things continued until the exercises were nearly through. 

The procession that was formed, the splendid escort by the New England Guards, of Bos- 
ton, the magnificent brass band led by Kendall, the throng of joyous ;aid applauding specta- 
tors of both sexes — these and the like things have all been so fully detailed in the journals, 
that nothing more need r.ow be said respecting them. The place of assembling has been 
partially, but not fully, described. It is difficult indeed to do it justice. One must imagine 
a plat of ground, shaped like an immense bowl, the bottom of which is a large flat, and the 
sides of which rise very gradually and with a gentle slope to the height of some 50 or 60 
feet. This area would contain within itself at least fourteen or fifteen thousand persons, all 
of whom could be brought perfectly within the sound of a well toned voice. On one side 
of this peculiar amphitheatre, if we may so call it, a stage was erected capable of holding 
some seventy or eighty persons, furnished with two long tables for reporters, which were 
entirely occupied. This latter class of gentlemen, as I was told, were from Boston, New 
York, Albany, Lowell, and some other parts of Massachusetts not named. The position of 
the stage was peculiar. It was placed about one third of the way up the ascent of the am- 
phitheatre, on the northwest side of it; and back of it was a thick forest of evergreens on 
the ascending ground, which contributed greatly to the quiet of the place, and formed a ram- 
part against the north wind and the cold. There was, moreover, to a sensitive mind, some- 
thing of awe in this dense overshadowing forest. It extended itself, however, only from the 
northwest to the northeast side of the area in question. Never was a place better adapted 
to public speaking. I cannot doubt, in the least, that any man, who is able to use his voice 
with skill and power, might make at least 15,000 persons in this place hear every word which 
he would utter. 

So much for the procession and the place. A few words, now, as to the distinguished 
speaker, who was to address the great assembly convened on this occasion. 

He came to Andover on the day preceding the Address. The friends who visited him in 
the evening found him laboring under a most violent catarrhal complaint, which arose from 
a preceding snow storm, followed by a very damp and cold atmosphere. Mr. W. himself, 
and his friends also, nearly despaired of his being able to address the meeting on the fol- 
lowing day. A peaceful night, however, in a good degree restored his usual tone of health, 
and the next morning he found himself, as he said, "not unwilling to say a few common- 
place and dull things to his friends, if they wished him to make the effort." 

The procession was long in forming, on account of the distance from which great numbers 
had to come. It was mid-day before they reached the ground where the Address Mas to be 
made. Mr. W., on account of the somewhat delicate state of his health, at this time, waited 
at the house of a friend until the procession had begun their march. He met them at a 
moderate distance from the station. A friend, who was near him at the time when his eye 
first caught a glance of the long and deep array of freemen in the procession, said to him : 
" You thought that you were to address only a small gathering of people from this and the 
neighboring towns; look back and see how many guests are come to the feast to-day." He 
cast back his eye; but the end of the procession could not be seen, it being hidden by a ris- 
ing ground, at "the distance of nearly one-third of a mile. On the way to the speaking station, 
when Mr. W. had mounted the rising ground which surrounds the amphitheatre, he could 
now look back and see, at last, the whole of the procession. It was some eight or ten deep, 
and extended to almost half a mile. Besides these were a large number of persons already 
assembled on the ground, and these were afterward joined by many new comers. The whole 
number has been variously estimated in the journals ; much, I should think, at least bv many 
of them, according to the tenor of their wishes, rather than of their judgment. I have 
seen many large assemblies in the course of my life, and I venture, after some pains-taking, 
to form a judgment, and after conferring with others accustomed to form one on such occa- 
sions, to say that there could not be less than between five and six thousand people. I have 
heard and read of their being 1,500, 1,800, 2,000, 2,500, 3,000, etc.. ; all the result of inexpe- 
rience in judging, or of displeasure at the occasion. 

When Mr. W. first cast a glance at this immense train, this solid phalanx of the freemen 
of Old Essex and her friends, his eye kindled, and his face glowed with an emotion that was 
indicative of good to come for those who were to hear him. A friend who was near him 
thought he saw the tear of emotion start in his eye; he was sure it did in his own. When 
Mr. W. had reached the position spoken of above, namely, the elevated side of the amphi- 
theatre, and could by looking back see the whole of the procession, moving along with a 
gravity, a stillness, and a sobriety of demeanor which could scarcely be surpassed by a great 



assembly convening for public worship, that friend said to Mr. Webster: Look back now, 
and see how it will fare with the "common-place and dull things that you threatened us 
with saying." The look evidently brought up his whole soul into his countenance. On 
noticing this, that friend added, " Now then I am certain that something will be done to- 
day. I am sure this will bring out some of the very recesses of your intellectual interior." 
Mr. W. mode no answer; but it was easy to believe that the prediction of that friend, would 
be verified. Mr. \V. however, after a. few moments, merely expressed his gratification, in 
delicate terms, at the stillness, the perfect order, the deep earnestness, of those who weie to 
be his auditors. 

The station was reached in a few minutes, and the exercises commenced after a short 
delay. I shall spend no time in repeating details already given in the public journals. I aim 
more at the interior history of the occasion, than its exterior. There was, from the moment 
the attention of this great meeting was formally invited, the most solemn and profound still- 
ness, through the whole of the exercises, with the exception of occasional applauses. It was 
an affecting sight, when it was announced that the blessing of Heaven was to be invoked, 
to see such a vast assemblage uncover their heads, without an exception, and stand in a pos- 
ture of reverence that could not be exceeded m any church, on the most solemn occasion. 
There was not a whisper or a movement. With the arch of heaven for the dome of their tern 
with the glorious noonday sun in all his radiance looking down upontheni. and surrounded by 
the dark ever-green forest, and the high rampart of lulls thrown up by the hand of Omnip- 
otence, this mighty mass of the yeomanry of Essex, unsurpassed in true dignity and worth of 
character by any other like assembly on the face of the earth, bowed and worshipped with 
an awe that cannot be adequately described, before the God of the whole earth, in whose 
hands are the destinies of rulers and people, and before whom all nations are as nothing and 
vanity, and are counted as the dust of the balance. 

The various exercises which followed have already been described in the papers. Justice, 
however, has not, as it seems to me, been done to the Hon. Mr. Phillips, of Salem, for his 
preamble and resolutions. They were the fruit of much research, and told some important 
truths in respect to the structure and design of our State Government, which the commu- 
nity seem of late to have lost sight of. 

But I hasten to the chief speaker. He began in a moderate tone, as he always does in 
his great speeches. He gradually warmed and rose as the occasion, the matter of his dis- 
course, and the feelings of the assembly before him demanded. In this he showed his usual 
tact. Nothing can be more incongruous than a highly animated and glowing address from a 
speaker, to an assembly which is perfectly cool and grave ; specially when they have come 
together, not to pour out their pent-up or indignant feelings on any moving occasion, but to 
be instructed, and thus to be persuaded to perform their duty. It is altogether inconirruous 
when a speaker rises, in presence of a great assembly, and is all on fire and bursting with 
zeal, while his audience do not yet know what there is to set him on fire, and see no reason 
why they should burn with him. Mr. W. makes no such mistakes. 

Such a listening concourse I have never seen, on a merely civil or social occasion. In 
particular, from the moment when Mr. W. beiran. until he closed, there was nothing but the 
most fixed and easrer attention among his audience. Indeed, it made one's heart beat high, 
to look on that vast and solemn assembly, as they stood before the speaker. There was a 
sea of upturned faces; a sea unruffled except by the mighty impetus of the speaker in occa- 
sional passages. But when this ocean of human aspects was agitated, (and this was on no 
light occasion,) it resounded like the mighty deep that lifts its voice on high, amid the buff'et- 
ings of the storm. It was the shout of freemen, firmly resolved to defend their precious 
rights and their invaluable privileges to the latest breath : a shout which made the hills to 
echo and re-echo its lofty note, and which mounted to the arch of heaven above. It was 
the response of thousands, to whom the principles of civil and religious liberty and of eternal 
right and justice are very dear, and who could not but exult, when they heard them lucidly 
explained and nobly defend'-'!. 

There was one circumstance, in particular, which imparted peculiar interest to the scene. 
Every person present knew that the approbation, whenever and however expressed, was the 
unbought and unsolicited approbation of men who judged for themselves. There were no 
clap-traps provided for the occasion ; no hirelings stationed here and there to give the v 
word to a mob, to throw up their caps into the air, and strain their lungs to the highest pitch 
in hallooing. Whenever hurraing or clapping of hands took place, it proceeded from no one 
particular quarter first, and then merely spread itself gradually out, but it was simultaneous, 
and thus showed that it resulted from the homogeneous and universal feeling of the audience. 
It is true that the tokens of applause in question were less frequent than usually take place 
in most city meetings. But there was good reason for this. The simple yeomanry of the 
country are not trained, and are not accustomed, to noise and adulation, and they were the 



6 

mass of the audience ; while the friends present from the cities in the neighborhood, were 
almost without exception of a class who think little of huzzas, and care still less to have 
their friends overloaded with them. Besides all this, the audience were too intent upon 
drinking in instruction, often to interrupt the flow of it. They showed more interest in their 
faces and in their demeanor, than could he shown by all the shouts or the clapping that 
could have been exhibited. It was a kind of testimony which no man could fail to read, 
none could mistake. And when the bursts of applause did come, it was, as has been inti- 
mated, mere spontaneous feeling that occasioned them. There was no plan on the part of 
(he speaker to call them out, and none on the part of any of his hearers to regulate their 
number. 

The speaker said nothing but what his subjects demanded, nor in any way which was not 
entirely consistent with pure rhetorical taste. It is impossible but that "the unalterable fixed- 
ness of look upon him, which continued down to the last word that he uttered, must have 
given him greater satisfaction than any clapping of hands or hurrahs. I do not say that 
these should be altogether suppressed in meetings of such a nature as the one in question; 
they may have their uses when soberly and judiciously employed ; but as they are more 
generally managed of late years, any man of real weight and dignity of character must look 
upon them with emotions bordering upon contempt. 

If any one will turn to the report of Mr. VV.'s speech as printed in the Commercial, which 
I believe is the only full and complete one in all its parts, he may see that the audience of 
Mr. W . seldom missed in their judgment, where applause was manifested. One case of 
particular delicacy of feeling I noticed, which is worth recording. The day, as I have said, 
though clear, was severely cold for the season. Mr. W. had taken off both his surtout and 
hat, when he prepared to make his address. Being admonished by some friend near him, as 
I believe, that it was dangerous to speak so long with his head uncovered, he after some 
time resumed his hat, with a simple parenthetic sentence in the way of apology. In an 
instant there was a wide and universal, although not boisterous, testimony of approbation 
from his audience, telling him at once, and fully, that in these circumstances it argued no 
want of respect to them that he addressed them with his head covered. 

There are passages in his Address, where one might be strongly tempted to testify aloud 
his approbation, but which passed without such a mode of approval. I noticed it at the 
time. But nothing was easier than to account for it. The simple truth is, that the assembly 
was too deeply interested in what was said, and too intent upon what they expected would be 
said, to interfere often with the current of the discourse, or interrupt their own fixed attention. 
And well did they judge, in my humble opinion Any man of sense would rather be heard 
with respectful attention and silence, than to hear either clapping or hurrahs. The great agi- 
tator of Ireland, as I observe, not only has regular hurrahs at the end of paragraphs and sen- 
tences, but often at the end of single clauses, and sometimes of single words. If his reported 
speeches are true copies, it seems to make very little difference what is said, or how it is said ; 
for at certain places his audiences must stop and hurrah, until they get out of breath and cool 
down their burning patriotism a little, and then, they let their " deliverer" go on. Not so a 
New England audience ; and above all, not so with Daniel Webster as speaker before them. 

Enough of this. But I must add that when, at the close of his discourse, Mr. W. came to 
speak of himself, and the official course which he had pursued, there was such a thunder of 
applause, so often repeated and so long continued, as left no possibility of misapprehending 
the feelings of the audience. One was tempted to think that they had lost their sobriety, 
were it not that they immediately relapsed into their former frame, as soon as the exercises 
were closed ; for they marched to the place of refreshment with the same order and quietness 
as they had come to the station. 

There was some excellent speaking at the dinner table; in particular Mr. King, the Rep- 
resentative elect to Congress from the South Essex district, addressed the large concourse 
then?, with <jreat animation ; General Dearborn, also, who was displaced last winter from his 
office, because he had lent some state arms to the conservatives of Rhode Island, made a 
very eloquent speech on the subject of lending these arms, and of their subsequent sale by 
order of the last winter's Legislature. But the severity of the cold forced me from the place, 
just before he concluded. 

On review of this whole occasion, I count it one of those periods of a man's life which 
cannot often recur, but which leave behind them deep and lasting impressions. Every thing 
was sober, grave and decorous ; unless, indeed, some one should say that the occasional play 
of wit in some of the toasts, and the speeches after them, might infringe upon this. But on 
6uch an occasion there is doubtless some latitude to be given to the play of the imagination 
and the fancy, in order to enliven an audience that had been fixed, so long as this had been, by 
most earnest and devoted attention. More than two hours, or rather nearly three, including 
all the previous exercises, had they been in this attitude. At all events, neither the toast? 



nor the addresses that followed them were inspired by wine. The whole entertainment waa 
conducted strictly upon temperance principles. 

On the whole, the scene, the demeanor of the assembly, the peculiarity of the place, the 
character of the audience, the deep silver trumpet tone of the orator of the day, his gestures, 
his looks, his words — they made an impression never to be eradicated or forgotten. 

I crave pardon for being so prolix on this part of my subject. I am only reiterating the 
language and the feelings of the thousands who were present. 

But 1 have matters of more serious import in view ; and 1 hasten to them without a word of 
preface. 

A respectable Whig journal, in reporting only a part of Mr. W.'s speech, remarks, that 
"the speech has none of that fire, that vigor, that deep-toned, heart-born eloquence, which, 
in the glorious campaign of 1839-40, were wont to mark the efforts of Mr. W. in the fur- 
therance of the good cause, and to stir all true Whig hearts like the sound of a trumpet." 
The writer goes on to speak of the "restraint" which manifests itself in the speech, as "con- 
trasting with the frank, open and noble manner of former speeches on public matters." 

This, or something like to this, has been said in a few other Whig journals ; but, so far as 
I know, only in a few. I take the general impression to be that, take it all in all, the Ando- 
ver address is one of the best and most useful and important of all Mr. W.'s speeches. 

I can give some specific reasons for differing from the opinion of the journal above men- 
tioned. It must certainly be admitted that different occasions call for addresses of different 
character. The perfection of any address consists, in its being wholly appropriate to the oc- 
casion which called it forth. Now what was the nature of the call in the present instance? 
The state election in Massachusetts was indeed pending, yet the committee who invited Mr. 
W. expressly say to him, that they do not invite him to address them for the purpose of aiding 
their town, district, or state election. They ask him to discuss topics of universal interest to 
the country — the topics in dispute between the two great parties that divide the nation. 
They ask him to discuss these, in such a way as will be adapted to arrest the attention of 
both parties, and cast light on the subject discussed, of which both may avail themselves. 
They did not think it would be courteous and respectful to Mr. \\\, situated as he now is, to 
invite him to come and prepare a mere local party banquet. He certainly would not have 
come for such a purpose. He could not do it without a degree of degradation. 

How, then, has Mr. W. executed the task which he was invited to perform ? There is but 
one answer to be made to this question. He has done just what the committee invited him 
to do. He has given his views on the most important topics which divide the opinions and 
feelings of the country, and given thern in a manner that will not soon be forgotten. Is 
there one word in all that he has said, which is uttered ad captandtanf Is there any invidi- 
ous, sarcastic, vilifying remark in the whole speech, against such as differ from him in politi- 
cal opinion? Not one. Mr. W. is one of those men who believe that the minds of bis 
fellow citizens are to be convinced and persuaded by argument and reason, and not by 
reproaches, and sarcasms, and hard names. 

His political opponents may say what they please of his speech; but one may challenge 
them to produce from all their ranks, in the North or South, a single great speech on the 
topics in question, which has not more of party feeling and severity in it than the Andover 
Address. I am aware that some of the Whigs like it the less on this very account ; but I 
am not aware that there is any good measure of candor, or magnanimity, or true policy, in 
such a feeling. 

Nothing can be more unjust in criticism than to complain of Mr. W., that he had not all 
the excitement and fire of Harrison times, on the present occasion. First of all, we are not 
in the midst of Harrison times. We have fallen, alas ! upon very different times. As Mr. 
W. was not invited to make any local or state elections his particular object, so there was 
none of the excitement that belongs to a heated political canvass to be expected from him, 
or demanded of him. It would have been aside from good taste for him to exhibit it. No 
general election for the whole country is yet fairly upon the tapis. It was not for Mr. W. to 
anticipate this. Nothing could be said, at this juncture, which was particular and personal, 
that would not have been misinterpreted and perverted. Mr. \V. has been too long in public 
life to commit himself in this manner. 

What was said long ago by a writer, whose short poem on the laws of criticism has been 
the best manual of rhetoric from the time when it was written down to the present hour, is 
still true. Difficile est proprie connnunia dicere, i. e. " it is difficult to speak in an interesting 
manner on topics with which every body is acquainted." No one is ignorant of the fact that, 
for the last seven or eight years, the topics on which Mr. W. spoke at Andover have been 
discussed, from the lofty senate chamber down to the bar-room caucus. Speakers in Con- 
gress have discussed and repeated, and repeated and discussed, until the whole matter has 
not only been worn thread-bare, but reduced to shreds. So has it been in all the 6tate legis- 



8 

iatures, caucuses, county meetings, town meetings, and tavern or other small meetings. 
Every newspaper, from the stately metropolitan down to the lowest radical off-shoot — the ten 
dollar papers and the cent-a-piece papers — have harped on the subjects that Mr. W. has can- 
vassed, until they have become tiresome, even to the most violent sticklers for party mea- 
sures. What hope was there for Mr. W., in such a case ? The committee invited him to a 
task difficult indeed, and one which but few political men would be willing to undertake. 

How then has he performed this task ? Just as the committee hoped and expected ; and 
just as the public, who knew him, expected. He has taken hold of the subjects with giant 
grasp. He has presented all that is essential and important, in the smallest compass possible, 
and in a manner so lucid that the most simple reader can understand him. He has brought 
the much controverted subjects, indeed, into so narrow a compass as to throw them all upon 
one canvass, sketched out there by his skilful hand. He has made for the country a manual 
of political economy — a text book which will go down to future generations, so far as the 
topics in question are concerned. No man can refute the substance of what he has said. 
Any one may rail at it, or he may scoff at it, if he is degraded and foolish enough to do so; 
but to refute his reasoning — the whole political world may be challenged to do it. 

What propriety is there, then, in the criticism which complains that there is not the glow 
or warmth of Harrison speeches ? Mr. W. was asked for didactics ; he has given them with 
a witness. He has touched the common, trite, and absolutely worn-out topics with his magic 
wand, and they have started up before us in a new, simple, and beautiful costume. Every 
body who reads with candor wonders that such simple things could not be said before. It 
brings fresh to one's mind another admirable saying of that great master of the true princi- 
ples of rhetoric, whose words I have quoted above, but whom t must again quote, because I 
can say nothing so appropriate as he has said : 

Ex noto iictum carmen sequar, ut sibi quivis 
Speret idem ; sudet multum, frustraque lahoret 
Ausus idem ; tantum series juncturaque pollet. 

That is : '• One may compose a poem on a trite subject, in such a way that every body will 
feel himself able to accomplish the same thing; yet should they attempt it, after much severe 
effort, they will find that they have labored in vain: so much do nice arrangement and due 
connectien of things avail." Never was this more completely verified than in the present 
instance. The simplicity which is so remarkable in Mr. W.'s discourse, is the genuine fruit 
of a master-mind, which first strongly and fully grasps a subject, then divests it of all that is 
extraneous, separates from it all that is unimportant, and lastly holds it up to view so that all 
its constituent parts will stand in the broad light of day. 

It is always the work of a master mind to find the simple and constituent elements of 
things, that were to all appearance and to common minds intricate and perplexed. This is 
clearly one of the distinguishing prerogatives of Mr. W.'s mind. 

Why now, I repeat the question, should any one say, in the way of undervaluing Mr. W.'s 
address, that it has not all the fire of Harrison times? If it had, I answer, it would have 
been inappropriate to the occasion. What if a critic on Cicero should now rise up and say : 
" The orations for the poet Archias and in defence of Milo are but tame and insipid per- 
formances ; for they are destitute of that fire and energy which appear in his invectives 
against Cataline and Marc Antony ? " Or what if one should say that " Demosthenes may 
justly be taxed with a failure, because his oration for Phormio, or against Spudias, is not to 
be compared, as to fire and energy, with his Oration for the Crown, or his Philippics ? " One 
might surely, and with much propriety, reply, that different occasions call for different kinds 
of oratory. " The highest evidence of the first order of oratorical talent is, that a speaker 
always says that which is appropriate to the occasion, and in the manner that the nature of 
the case requirr^. 

It is beyond a doubt that Mr. W.'s eloquence is prevailingly of the Demosthenian order. 
He never seeks to make a display. He never steps aside to cull a gaudy flower for the sake 
of ornament. He will scarcely ever admit it even when proffered. He never strains his 
imagination in search of novel, and seemingly ornate, and striking forms of expression. He 
exhibits simplicity without homeliness, neatness without affectation, strength without rough- 
ness. There is a living power in the tenor of his thoughts) which, while its pulse beats deep 
and high, communicates the energy of its movements to all within its reach. Mr. W. s 
power lies mainly, as every discriminating hearer or readeT must perceive, in his deep, logi- 
cal, orderly, simple, and "energetic vein of thought; indeed his is truly the eloquence of 
thought. Yet not in such a sense as if words, or the choice of words, were a matter of in- 
difference to him. Nothing can be further from reality than this ; for his diction is altogether 
congruous with his course of thought, and seems to come forth as easily and naturally as 
water flows along a descent. Often, in the course of his address, waa I reminded of the 



remark of Milton — a remark equally discriminating and just — namely, that when a hearty 
lover of truth, anxious to communicate it to others, would speak, " his words, like so many 
nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command, and in well ordered files, as he would 
■u ish, fall aptly into their own places." Even under the disadvantage of mere stenographic 
representation, the scrutiny of the critic will discover few cases indeed in Mr. W.'s dis- 
courses, where the diction could be altered for the better. And as to words coming at the 
bidding of Mr. W., never had a master more complete, absolute, and uncontrollable dominion, 
than this orator has over "his nimble and airy servitors." 

It would be easy to refer to several of Mr. W.'s speeches, where he has shown that he 
can rival the manner of Cicero, as well aa that of Demosthenes. It is undoubtedly true, that 
an imagination which kindles so easily as his, and a mind so instinct and fraught with poetic 
imagery and conception, could achieve any thing in the way of ornamented discourse which 
it might be desirable to achieve. But his chastened taste does not permit indulgence in this 
way, when be engages in forensic and didactic speaking. 

His Bunker Hill Addresses show how easily he can depart from his more usual argumen- 
tative and didactic manner — delightful in their kind — Parian marble chiselled into Corinthian 
columns — while his argumentative discourses are of the solid granite, wrought in the chaste 
and severe simplicity and grandeur of the Ionic order. And what shall we say of the man 
who can erect a structure of either shape and material, with equal ease and skill ? We 
have such a one in the Defender of the Constitution of our country. 

It would be superfluous for me to recapitulate here the substance of Mr. Webster's Address. 
It is in every body's hands, and all can read and judge for themselves. But it may be proper 
merelv to notice that the order of the topics which he has discussed, is that which the feel- 
ings of his audience and of the country made the most natural and apposite. First, the cur- 
rency, as the means of trade and commerce, in which every man, rich and poor, is interested ; 
then comes the great and intensely interesting subject of tariff, or, in other words, the subject 
of patronising and encouraging the manufactures of our country. How great this is, may 
be judged of in some measure by the products of 1840, a year far inferior as to the quantity 
of them to 1843. But of the last named year I have no estimate on which I can rely. 

In 1840, however, the amount of our productions by manufacture was but a little short of 
two hundred and forty millions of dollars. The exact sum, as estimated in the 
best possible manner, was $239,836,224. If such a vast sum stands as the equivalent of our 
manufactured productions, what must be the amount of the capital embarked by the manufac- 
tures in buildings and machinery ? It almost surpasses calculation. And yet it is altogether 
certain, that but for the tariff a large proportion of this capital would be entirely inactive and 
worthless. European labor — from four pence to a shilling a day — must enable the manufac- 
turers there to undersell us here, until such time as our machinery, which is every year im- 
proving, and superseding more and more the need of numerous operatives, and the quantity 
and quality of our raw material, shall become so complete, that we can not only sell as cheap 
as Europe, but even undersell them, and go to foreign markets with our productions. Already 
has the process commenced; and let the tariff be on ten years longer, and it will extend to 
nearly all the most important articles produced by our manufacturers. 

But my present business is not to argue the point. Mr. W. has rendered it needless. I 
merely advert to the happy dexterity with which Mr. W. has interwoven documents with his 
speech, which show that tariff is no novelty under our Government. The opinions and views 
of Dr. Franklin, and of the leading men in Boston, so far back as 1787, are fully given. 
Mutatis mutandis, the very same things could be now said, and with still greater power. In 
fact Mr. W. has so said them. 

The subjects of the public lands and of repudiation remain. The first topic is briefly 
handled, as. on this occasion, was absolutely necessary. In respect to the second, Mr. W. 
has brought forward a most admirable address of Congress to the States, immediately after 
the peace in 1783, on the subject of paying their debts. He believes, and has expressed 
himself in strong and undoubting terms, that our public faith and credit will be yet redeemed. 
At all events, we shall surely become a hissing and by-word among all nations if they be not. 

I have seen several gentlemen, lately returned from the continent of Europe and from Eng- 
land. Nothino - seems to be talked of there, now, in respect to America, but repudiation, and 
Lynch-law, and slavery. This is the sombre tri-colored flag that floats, in their view, over 
all our country. Time was, when Americans, all over the continent of Europe, were received 
with open arms, and with more cordiality than the men of any other nation. But now an 
American is pointed at with the finger of scorn, as he passes along the streets, and he may 
deem himself lucky if the mob do not hoot at and pursue him. Such are the tremendous retri- 
butions of dishonesty, of violated public faith, of outraged law and justice, and of an avarice 
and a selfishness which stop at no bounds marked out by heaven or earth. 

I is high time that this state of things should be changed. A general conviction of the 
2 



10 

truth of Mr. W.'s positions would change the whole in three months, and cleanse and redeem 
our deeply stained character. The importance of the topics, then, which he has discussed, 
no one will call in question. 

It remains to notice the concluding paragraphs of the Andover address, and then I have 
done. But these involve so many circumstances of interest, and are of so much importance to 
the country, as well as to Mr. Webster individually, that I shall not venture even to touch upon 
them in the present communication. I must reserve them for another apportunity ; and should 
that present itself, I believe I may venture to say that I have some communications to make, 
which will more than atone for the prolixity of the preceding remarks. I have facts to state, 
respecting what Mr. Webster has accomplished for the country, during and before the time 
when he took office in the Cabinet, some of which are but partially, if at all, known to the 
country. A correct knowledge of these must, as it seems to me, in some respects have an 
important influence on the present state of public opinion. I shall, however, if I find it possi- 
ble, occupy less room than I have now done ; and 1 hope, at all events, to excite a higher in- 
terest in the reader's mind, than I can reasonbly suppose myself to have excited by the pre- 
ceding communication. CIVIS. 



NUMBER II. 

The sketch which I am about to make of our political affairs, and of Mr. Webster's con- 
nection with them, during and since 1838, must necessarily be brief and rapid. It would 
amount to a little volume, should I go minutely into the detail. 

The perpetually occurring and harrassing difficulties on the frontiers of Maine, during the 
year 1838, are fresh in the recollection of all. We were not only in danger of a bitter and 
bloody war, but one might actually say that a beginning had been made. The question had 
been long, and, as it was thought, ably discussed between England and our government, as to 
the right & of the case ; and both parties believed themselves to be in possession of that right. 
That England, as well as we, was sincere in this belief, there is no good room for rational 

doubt . 

In the session of Congress of 1838-9, Mr. W. made his great speech in favor of the claims 
of Maine and Massachusetts to the disputed territory. This diffused general conviction over 
the United States ; but Great Britain was not yet satisfied. Matters were evidently hasten- 
ing to a fearful crisis ; and, in view of this, the great majority in Congress were in favor of a 
special mission to England. Massachusetts and Maine, without much distinction of party, 
wished most earnestly that Mr. W. should be nominated by Mr. Van Buren to go on this 
mission. There would have been a general, if not a universal, approbation of such a 
measure. 

From a variety of reasons, some of which will present themselves to every discerning 
reader, Mr. Van Buren declined to make the nomination. Instead of following the advice 
of Congress, as plainly manifested by the vote of both houses, in making the necessary appro- 
priation, Mr. Van Buren directed Mr. Stevenson to consult England on the subject ; and, as 
was to be expected, England, that is to say Lord Palmerston, saw no use in a special mission. 
So the matter remained in the hands of the two officials, Lord Palmerston and Mr. Stevenson. 

The result is known to every body. These negotiators left oft' where they began. The 
country was on the very eve of a war, and was only waiting for a first blow to be struck. 

In this state of things, Mr. W.'s friends thought that he ought to go to England as a pri- 
vate individual, if not as a special Minister. Moved by their advice, and not without iiopes, 
perhaps, that something might be done for the welfare of his country, he did go in May of 
1839. When he arrived in London, Parliament was in session, and the whole world, as 
Englishmen say, was in London. At this period, and in order to prevent any diversity of 
feeling with respect to the approaching presidential election, Mr. W., in a letter to a respected 
friend in New York, made known that he declined any nomination as a candidate for the 
office of the chief magistracy. 

Finding all the influential and leading circles of the English nation in London, Mr. W. 
had of course ready access to them, and was able to converse at large with them on the 
difficulties that existed between the two nations. Being a private man, all conversed with 
him freely, and he found almost every where a ready and listening ear. He stayed through 
most of the summer, until the Parliament broke up, in the city of London. Here he saw 
men of both houses of Parliament, and of all classes, from the highest down to the humblest 
station. His effort was, as opportunity offered, to enlighten their minds as to the true state 



11 

of the great and controverted question, and as to the real and paramount interests of both 
countries. Light would, as he very reasonably believed, produce conviction that peace was 
exceedingly desirable to both. 

He found such to be the case. And what is somewhat remarkable and quite different from 
what most persons in this country would suspect, he found that the Conservative part of Par- 
liament, and of the English in general, were much more open to conviction, and easy of 
access in respect to the* pending questions, than the Whig party. He found them far more 
ready to fall in with suggestions, which appealed to good feeling and magnanimity. 

Among others specially deserving notice here, Mr. VV. visited, and had long conversations 
with, Lord Ashburton, afterward special ambassador to thi3 country. He was invited, also, 
to a conference at his office, by the Marquis of Normanby, then Secretary of State. 

Of the impression made on the minds of the English by Mr. W. I need not say much. 
His countrymen know too well to need information, that Mr. W. could, and did, easily satisfy 
the leading men in England that he was " not a whit behind the very chiefest " of them. A 
saying of Lord Brougham, characteristic of himself as well as of Mr. W., is current in Eng- 
land,°and partially here, viz: That "he (Mr. VV.) was a steam-engine in breeches." I men- 
tion this, not for the sake of flattery, but only to show the impression made upon men of the 
highest circle in England, by the conversation of Mr. Webster. 

13ut Mr. W's. intercouse with public men was not confined to London. When Parliament 
broke up, he visited the nobilitv, some of the bishops, and many gentlemen in the country. 
His visit to the Archbishop of York, as I have heard him mention it, deserves particular no- 
tice, as indicating how little even the best informed Englishmen knew about some important 
particulars involved in the disputed questions. Mr. W. found him a venerable old man, of 
more than 80 years, above the stature of most men, erect as in youth, and a deeply interested 
politician, while all his mental powers were in full and vigorous exercise. The Archbishop 
expressed his feelings with some warmth, against the neglect of the American Government 
in respect to preventing the outbreaks continually occurring on the frontiers. He said it 
was our imperious duty to establish a cordon of troops, in order to watch over them and 
restrain them. And how long does your Grace think this cordon must be ? said Mr. Web- 
ster. Oh, it must extend some distance, he replied, but not a very great one ; although I 
have not particularly examined. I will tell you, then, said Mr. W.; the distance is as great 
as from )our palace to Constantinople, and thence back again to Vienna. The Archbishop 
lifted up both hands in astonishment. Mr. W. assured him that taking Maine, New Hamp- 
shire, Vermont and New York into the calculation, (and they should be taken into it,) what 
he had said was literally true. It was easy for his Grace to see that a cordon of troops along 
the whole of such a frontier was out of all question, and even if it were established, it would 
prove to be nugatorv. 

Suffice it to say that Mr. W. spent four or five months in London and other parts ot Eng- 
land, among people of all classes. Late in the autumn of 1839, he returned to this country. 
It became soon apparent that Harrison was fast gaining ground, and Mr. W. embarked in 
canvassing for him with all his might. In the mean time he was advertised by friends in 
England, that the hopes of the leading men there, of bringing about a peace, were greatly 
increased by the prospect of General Harrison's election. They had tried the Van Buren 
administration, and done all that they had felt able to do, and had brought about nothing. 
The question with that administration was, as they supposed, how will English matters bear 
on our re-election ; not what would contribute most for the peace, the happiness, and the 
interests of the two nations. From Gen. Harrison and the Cabinet which he would select, 
they had strono- hopes of measures that would lead to pacification. 

In November of 1840, Gen. Harrisons election was secured. From him Mr. W. received 
an immediate offer of anv place in the Cabinet which he would choose, as is known from his 
own statement. He chose, of course, in view of what he had seen in England, and with 
the hope of completing what may be said to have begun, the office of Secretary of State. 

Mr. W. was sworn "into office immediately after Harrison's inauguration. In the^mean- 
time a most unfortunate event had occurred, which threatened to defeat all Mr. W s past 
efforts and frustrate his hopes. This was the arrest of McLeod, in February of 1841, just 
before the new administration came into office. He was thrown into prison for a capital 
offence ; and the magistrate who had at first bailed him, was forced by the mob to retract the 
bail and thrust him into close confinement. What was more unfortunate still, the Governor 
of New York claimed him as a New York state prisoner, and insisted on his being tried by 
the court of that state. And all this, it will be remembered, when McLeod was m reality 
sharped with doino- nothing more than obeying the command of his superior officer. It 
woufd be hard to say that the Governor of that state did this for popular effect ; but it is 
equally difficult to suppose that such a lawver, and civilian, and jurist, as he confessedly is, 
♦ould be ignorant of a principle so plain, as that an inferior officer is bound, on penalty ot 



12 

death, to obey his superior ; that the superior alone is responsible for the acts which that 
inferior does ; or, in case he merely obeys his Government, that the Government is respon- 
sible to the nation injured by those acts. 

In fact this principle was so plain, so obvious, so universally acknowledged, that all Eng- 
land, without exception, was lighted up into a blaze as soon as the news of McLeod's im- 
prisonment reached it. Three days after Mr. Webster was sworn into office, he received a 
communication from Mr. Fox, the English Minister, informing him that unless McLeod was 
liberated, a rupture between the two countries was inevitable. 

In this fearful state of affairs, Mr. W. sat down and wrote his celebrated letter to the 
English Ministry on the subject of McLeod's imprisonment and impending trial. His design 
was to show, that while he fully recognized the correctness of the principle maintained by 
England, it was impossible, from the nature of our State and General Governments, for the 
latter to interfere where a process of law was commenced in the former. On this letter every 
thing depended. Had not Mr. W. succeeded in satisfying the English Ministry that the 
United States, as such, had done and would do all that was possible in the case, for render- 
ing justice to McLeod as an individual, a war forthwith was the inevitable consequence. It 
is not perhaps generally known, but is a fact, that Mr. Fox had received positive orders, that 
unless McLeod was shortly set at liberty, he should demand his passports, and leave the 
country. But this was not all. Whenever it came to this, he was commissioned to advertise 
the Governor of the Canadas and the admirals on the Halifax and West India stations, that 
active aggressions, such as a state of war demanded, were to be forthwith made by each of 
them, with all the vigor and alacrity that were possible. 

Mr. W.'s letter brought the English Ministry and people to a stand. They saw, at once, 
that they could not reasonably demand of our General Government to violate state privileges 
and institutions. They saw that the General Government had done, and was willing to do, 
all that was possible and lawful. This calmed the raging elements. And they truly needed 
to be calmed, for all the people of England, from the sovereign on the throne to the beggar 
on the dunghill, were not only of one opinion in this matter, but of one heart and soul as to. 
making war on us, should it become necessary by any punishment of McLeod. 

So much for this masterpiece of argument on the part of Mr. Webster — one of the greatest 
services ever done to the country, and which no man in it could probably have done as well 
as he — and thus much for the state of things which followed the publication of that letter. 

In the meantime, at Mr. W.'s suggestion, the President had nominated Mr. Everett to the 
place of ambassador in England, in the month of May, 1841. Congress, it will be remem- 
bered, sat through the summer of that year into September. Mr. E., on account of difficulties 
made by some of the Southern gentlemen, was not confirmed until late in the summer session. 
In the interim, before letters could reach him, Mr. Everett had gone to Rome. 

He did not reach England until December of 1641. Mr. Webster did not expect that any 
thing definite and final would or could be done, until McLeod's trial was through, and Mr. 
E. had taken his place at the British Court. 

Shortly after Mr. E.'s arrival, he wrote to Mr. Webster, and informed him that the BritisJi 
Ministry were pacifically inclined. It should be recalled here, that in May of this year, 
(1841) the Melbourne Ministry had gone out, and that of the Conservatives had been estab- 
lished. All this seemed auspicious for our country. It proved to be so. Mr. E. found that 
Lord Aberdeen, the new Secretary of State, had determined to nominate Lord dshburtoii for 
the American Mission, and for the very reason, that he found him favorably inclined to Amer- 
ica, and also believed, as he had reason to do, that Lord A. would be very acceptable there. 
This was just what Mr. W. had all along expected. Lord A. would not have consented to 
go on such a mission, had he not been pursuaded, from the conferences which he had already 
held with Mr. W., that he and the latter gentleman might bring about a pacification. This 
too was Mr. Webster's confident hope and expectation. And it was this which was the main 
inducement to hold his place in the Cabinet, when the other members of it resigned. 

The unpleasant and. disastrous occurrence of resignation Wok place in September, 1841, 
just before the close of the long session of Congress. A minute discussion of it, in this place, 
would not be congruous with my design, or important to it. Disastrous to the country it cer- 
tainly was, to lose such men from the Cabinet. Yet I never have seen any good reason seri- 
ously to blame the resigning members. How was it possible, after such a dereliction of honor 
as was manifest from employing them, and Mr. Sergeant and Mr. Berrien, to make peace be- 
tween the President and an offended and abused Legislature, and then disregarding and null- 
ifying by a veto the very terms of pacification which lie had assented to or prescribed — how 
was it possible that they should not take umbrage at the acts of the Executive ? 

No wonder that Mr. Sergeant resigned his place. No wonder that such men as Messrs. 
Crittenden and Ewing, and Bell, and Badger, and Granger, resigned their places. At least 



13 

it is no wonder to me ; for down to this very hour, I have never been able to look on their 
course with any other feeling than that of decided approbation. 

But I shall be asked how 1 can speak and feel thus, and yet be satisfied with Mr. W. for 
remaining in the Cabinet. "Without any difficulty, I answer ; and if I have not given reasons 
enough already to justify him, the sequel, as I think, will supply any deficiency. 

First of all, then, when the rupture had taken place, and it was plain that the Whig party 
were irreconcilable toward the President, Mr. W. consulted the Massachusetts delegation, as 
to the course which they would advise him to pursue. With two exceptions, and these were 
gentlemen of high standing and character, they were all agreed that .Mr. \V. ought to stay in 
the Cabinet. The two gentlemen in question at first doubted; afterward they gave an opin- 
ion against remaining. Among those who advised Mr. W. to remain was the venerable 
John Q,. Adams. Mr. Clay was also consulted, through the medium of a friend. He gave 
his opinion, that Mr. W. ought to remain until a treaty with England could be made ; and 
after this, he thought Mr. W. should retire. A good reason why he did not follow both parts 
of this advice will, as I think, be given in the sequel. If Mr. W. judged wrongly, then, on this 
occasion, he did it in common with some of the wisest, the most experienced, and most judi- 
cious men of this country. 

In the next place, as Mr. W. states in his letter of Sept 13, 1841, to Messrs. Gales & Seaton, 
the editors of the National Intelligencer, there had been no disagreement as to the business 
of his Department, between the President and himself. There was every prospect of being 
able to adjust the differences with England, because Mr. Everett was now confirmed, and 
there was a change in the English Ministry. Mr. W. had no serious doubts, he could have 
none after all that he had heard and seen and said in England, that if Lord Ashburton should 
be nominated on a special embassy to America, the desired object could be accomplished. 
Is there a man in all the country, who will now say that it was not best for Mr. W. to remain 
longer in the Cabinet ? I do indeed believe that few if any such can be found. 

But there are some particulars, in regard to this matter,. that need farther discussion. The 
letter of Mr. W. to which I have just referred contains two reasons for remaining in the Cab- 
inet ; perhaps I may say three, although Mr. W. has reckoned them otherwise. The first is the 
harmony of opinion between him and the President, as to our foreign relations. The second 
is, that he has confidence that the President will yet co-operate with the Legislature in some 
plan to aid the revenue and the financial operations. The third is, that in case of resigna- 
tion, the President ought to have reasonable notice, so that he might have time to select others 
to fill the places vacated. 

I have always regretted, and do still regret, that this last reason was given. In itself, and 
applied to any ordinary case, it contains a truth to which all may readily subscribe. But in 
this case, after having confidentially employed his Cabinet to allay the storm w hich his veto 
had raised, and acceded to or proposed means of conciliation, what could he expect from men 
of high and honorable feelings, except that they would resign forthwith, in case he again put 
his veto on the very measures agreed upon ? I have never thought, and never can believe, 
as I have already said, that the Cabinet did wrong in resigning forthwith. But still I believe 
it would have been much better for the country, if they had patiently borne it all, and kept 
their places until they were forced from them. In this last case the outrage would have been 
such that no disunion or disagreement among the Whig party would ever have taken place. 

Mr. W. undoubtedly foresaw this; indeed he adverts to the absolute necessity of continued 
agreement among the Whigs, in the letter just mentioned. The misfortune of the case was, 
that in this same letter he has spoken of " reasonable notice" in such a way that the implica- 
tion seems to be, that in his judgment his colleagues had not dealt reasonably with the Presi- 
dent, and so that there was reason to impute blame to them. 

In such a state of exasperated feeling, now, as existed at that period, it was impossible not 
to apprehend that such a construction would be put upon Mr. Webster's letter — impossible, I 
mean, for a bystander, who was cool and personally unconcerned, and had time to cast about 
him as to probable consequences. The sequel showed that there was good reason to appre- 
hend such consequences. Mr. W. himself was soon aware of them in their full ex- 
tent. But he supposed that the letter in question might be interpreted by another addressed 
to H. Ketchum, Esq., of New York, and dated two days earlier, winch is fuller, and, on some 
points, more explicit. In that he speaks, and no doubt with great sincerity, of the deep regret 
which the resignation of his colleagues had occasioned him. He also adverts, in the letter to 
Mr. K., to the agreement between hiii;<t'lf and the President in regard to our foreign rela- 
tions; to the necessity of continued union among the Whig party, and to the probability of 
still agreeing on some measures of importance in respect to the finances. One other idea is 
also distinctly brought to view, one which weighed much in his mind, and doubtless contrib- 
uted not a little toward the decision which he had made to remain in the Cabinet, viz: that 
"he had not been able to see in what manner the resignation of the Cabinet was likely either 
to remove or mitigate the evils in question." For this opinion he had substantial reason 



14 

inasmuch as nothing can be more certain than that the resignation of the Cabinet aggravated 
all the evils pressing upon us. 

But the apprehension of this, at that time, could come only from a kind of cool and deliberate 
foresight ; and of itself, moreover, it would not of course outweigh all the reasons which the 
other Cabinet members might have for resigning. Patience, long suffering, perhaps some 
might say lofty magnanimity, might have induced the resigning members to view the subject 
in the same light But there was a high and chivalrous feeling among them, which I must 
ever admire and applaud, despite of all prudential reasoning. The majority of the Whigs, 
at that time, went along with it. It is not strange, therefore, that they had some feeling, and 
in many cases strong feeling, on account of Mr. W.'s implied censure of the course of the 
resigning members of the Cabinet. I say implied, for there is not any thing in his letters 
which contains an attack upon his colleagues, although they have been so construed. Still 
the very fact that he did not resign seems to imply that he regarded their course as wrong. 
Yet even this position must be modified. He did think that they, on the whole, had judged 
erroneously, and therefore he could not partake in the movement Nor can there now be a 
shadow of doubt that their resignation divided the Whig party. If they had remained, the 
President, to get rid of them, must have forced them from their places, and then he would not 
have had a Whigpartizan left in the whole country ; and our matters would have been in a 
very different state from that in which they now are. Mr. W. was politically and pruden- 
tial'ly right, looking at and judging from the consequences resulting from the act of his col- 
leagues ; they were justified only by the laws of chivalric honor, and by their disgust at the 
treachery which had been practiced upon them. 
' But it is of no avail to make calculations now. The thing has been done. Mr. W. has 
written the two letters in question, and remained for two years in the Cabinet The conse- 
quences of his remaining are yet to be more fully unfolded in the sequel. But as yet the 
point before us has not been discussed in its full extent. 

It is certainly a matter of regret to Mr. W.'s best friends, and probably to himself, that 
his two letters were, amidst the hurry of perplexing business and the pressure of momentous 
concerns, so written that they were the occasion of such an interpretation as was put upon 
them. It is not strange, that amid such pressures, and affected perhaps in some degree by 
the bitter remarks and suspicions of many warm Whigs — bitter remarks, because he still re- 
tained his place, and suspicions, moreover, that he was about to quit the ranks of the Whigs — 
it is not strange, I say, that Mr. W. wrote as he did. He could not consent to act against 
his own judgment in the matter, merely to gratify party wishes. He felt, too, that his inde- 
pendence of character and opinion had been infringed upon, by the constructions put upon 
his conduct. He thought it was enough to give what he deemed valid reasons for holding 
his place, without naming all the reasons which he had, and which operated most of all in 
bringing him to the decision which he had made. If he misjudged in this case — and I am 
inclined to believe that he did — it was not from any of the motives which have been attributed 
to him by some of the exasperated Whig presses. I have said, and say again, he was right 
in a civil and prudential point of view ; he was right as a wary statesman and a calculator of 
foresight. But he overlooked too much the state of feeling that was then predominant, and 
was not careful enough to steer clear of all the unlucky interpretations that might be put 
upon his two letters. 

Mr. W., if he can bear with this judgment as to his course — and I apprehend he has mag- 
nanimity enough to do so — may still feel that while the writer of these remarks can never do 
otherwise than admire the noble and chivalrous feelings of his colleagues, and avow that in 
His view they are worthy of all honor, this same writer is entirely satisfied that he did right, 
nay, that with the exception of the mere shape given to his two letters, he acted with a mag- 
nanimity and forbearance which have few precedents and no superiors in our political history. 

If the reader is surprised at this avowal, after all that I have said, I must remind him in 
this place of the condition in which Mr. W. was placed. The story of his efforts in Eng- 
land, and the account of his confident and as the sequel shows well grounded expectations 
in regard to the English embassy, and the temper of the British Cabinet, exhibited, after all, 
the fundamental reason of Mr. W.'s continuance in office. But how could he assign the 
true reasons, and all of them, to the public at this period ? How could he come forward at 
a time when there was so strong an inclination to blame him, or suspect him ; or indeed how 
could he come forward even at any time ; and say that he had, by his personal efforts and 
influence in England, prepared the way for a treaty with that country on honorable grounds ? 
To recount his own labors, or even to advert to them, would have been called boasting, and 
assuming to himself an importance greater than that of any other man in the country. Mr. 
W. is among the last of men voluntarily to subject himself to such an imputation as this. 
Come what might, he could not and would not avow any such feelings. He did not even 
tell the President himself the story that in all good faith and truth he might have told. And 



15 

what man is there in all the country, who will not approve of the modesty and the magnan- 
imity which such a course displayed ? 

It was, beyond all question, one of the sorest misfortunes at this period, in respect to Mr. 
W., that he "was bound to keep silence as to the very things which most of all inlluenced him 
in the course that he pursued. He gave other reasons, and not bad ones, whether they are 
prudentially or civilly considered. But those reasons were misinterpreted, and did not 
satisfy. What then must he or could he do ? Should he leave the Cabinet, at all events, in 
order to maintain his place in the Whig ranks? He asked this question of himself and of 
others, many times. He looked at it on every side. He came at last, (and who will not 
rejoice that he did ?) to the conclusion that the peace and welfare of his country, which 
he now felt quite assured might be made secure, had higher demands on him than any party 
whatever. He could not tell the world the main reasons why he believed so, without sub- 
jecting himself to the imputation of assumption and vanity. It was out of the question to do 
this. It were better to suffer, and even to lose caste, than to let two countries engage in a 
war, that Mould cost many millions of treasure and shed rivers of blood ; and which, after 
all, would end just where it began. He decided to remain. The sequel has shown that he 
was entirely correct in the expectations which he had formed. What more is needed for 
complete justification, in respect to his decision? 

The public may rest assured that this account of the matter in question may be relied 
upon. It is no conjecture of political speculation or of partizan feeling in favor of Mr. 
Webster. The writer of these remarks was once among those who doubted whether Mr. 
Webster had decided right, when he remained in the Cabinet. He does not feel that he can 
any longer doubt. He hopes and trusts that others may come to sympathise with him. 

And now what shall candor say to the course of this distinguished statesman in this whole 
matter? Mr. W. decided to remain in the Cabinet, at the hazard of losing many, perhaps 
most, of his best friends ; of losing his place as a leader in the Whig party ; of sacrificing, 
in all probability, the confidence and affection of the Whigs in respect to any place of im- 
portance which they might otherwise be disposed to assign him ; in a word, at the hazard of 
his political character, influence, and consideration. He decided with all this hazard dis- 
tinctly in view. He decided, most of all, for reasons which he could, neither then nor now, 
give to the public, with his own voice or pen. His country was most distinctly before his 
mind, and upon it — his country about to plunge into a bitter and bloody war, the end of 
which no human foresight could discern — and his country carried the day. He magnani- 
mously determined to bear all that was said, or could be said, so long as his motives were 
not half understood and could not be explained, rather than give up the hope of serving his 
country. And truly, if ever a statesman was placed in a condition of tremendous trial — if 
there ever was one that passed through the furnace seven times heated — Mr. W. has a claim 
to be regarded as such a man. 

Such is the simple and truthful account of this whole matter. It may be gainsayed ; but 
I know that it cannot be overthrown, because it is founded in fact. 

One glance at the treaty with England, before I have done with this part of Mr. W.'s 
official course. 

By the treaty of Ghent, which terminated our last war with England, the houndary ques- 
tion was to be settled by arbitration. The matter was referred to the King of Holland. He 
made a decision; but the United States appealed from it. and Great Britain eventually gave 
it up. But still, by the terms of the treaty, arbitration must be continued until the matter 
was decided. What was now to be gained by it ? Neither party had any disposition to re- 
peat the experiment; neither believed that any thing important was to be gained by it. The 
affair seemed all but desperate. 

But this was not the whole of the difficulty. Maine and Massachusetts had claims to be 
satisfied, which were of great interest to them. Most fully and earnestly did they believe in 
the justice of those claims, and insist on their being satisfied. In the other states also, 
there were many who thought with them, at least theoretically ; but still the other states felt 
comparatively only a moderate interest in the question. There were some who even deemed 
it impolitic and wrong to occasion any dispute between England and our country, in respect 
to such a matter. 

How could such confusion and contrariety be reduced to order, and all parties be satisfied ? 
It was one of the most perplexing and difficult questions that statesmen ever have to meddle 
with. Nothing but the previous speech of Mr. W. on the claims of Maine and Massachu- 
setts, could have given to the great mass of people in those two states, confidence that he 
could and would adjust the matter to general satisfaction. 

In March 1842, Lord Ashburton arrived in this country. And although he and Mr. W. 
might have shortly agreed on the preliminaries of a treaty, nothing- could be done that was 
effectual and satisfactory, without the special concurrence of Maine and Massachusetts. 



16 

How much negotiation and effort it cost the Secretary of State to get this accomplished, 
never has been'fullv known, and indeed could not all, without some violation of confidence, 
be told. Suffice if to sav, that no one thing ever done by him as Secretary cost him more 
severe effort and solicitude than this. I hazard nothing in saying that, in all probability, no 
other man in our country could have brought it about so effectually as he did. 

After all the preparatorv efforts— after united delegations of Maine and Massachusetts had 
been appointed, and abundant labor bestowed in order to satisfy them— the treaty was at last 
made and concluded in August, 1842. The whole country at once breathed freer. The 
approbation of it was as universal as could be expected, and it remains so down to the present 

hour. 

Yet satisfaction on account of deliverance from rear seems hitherto to have been the pre- 
dominant ground for approbation. The positive good of the treaty, in other respects, has 
never yet received the estimate that is due to it I can only glance at some of the leading 
and most important particulars. 

(1.) All the navigable streams on our borders were, by the old treaty, divided so that the 
line of separation ran in the middle of them, one half belonging to one country and the other 
half to the other. Of course it would not unfrequently happen, that where thechannel runs 
upon our side or half, England was barred out from the navigation : and so owe versa. By 
the recent treaty, the whole of the navigable ivaters are free to both countries. The im- 
measurable importance to both countries of this emendation of the old treaty is evident. 
Yet England was reluctant at first to yield this point ; and it cost not a little effort to accom- 
plish the object that we desired. 

(2.) As matters formerly were, an offender in either country might escape into the other, 
and he was safe from all molestation. By the new treaty, extradition has been fully agreed 
upon. The meaning of this is, that when a person commits an offence in one country and 
flies to the other, he can be demanded, and must be delivered up to be tried where the 
offence was committed. The incalculable importance of this with respect to the preserva- 
tion of peace, and order, and kind feeling, between the two countries, must be plain to every 
thinking man. It is the same arrangement which exists between our states respectively, as 
to offences committed in them. 

(3.) The great question of the right of search, which had occasioned one war, and bid fair 
to occasion another, was in a good measure, at least for some time to come, disposed of. Our 
squadron on the African coast is now a good and sufficient reason for permitting American 
vessels, trading there, to pass without a British search. I am informed by an officer in the 
African Colonization Society, that the thing works practically well there, notwithstanding 
some difficulties in the case, which, it was feared, might occur. At all events Great Britain 
has so long taken and maintained her ground there, in respect to this matter, that it could not 
be disposed of in any better way for the present, than it has b een. Time and farther experi- 
ence alone can fully settle this question. 

Let any impartial man, now, closely examine and study this treaty, and say if any thing 
could be devised more honorable to both nations, yea, more advantageous to both ? Are not 
the complete navigations of the border waters, and the extradition of offenders, equally im- 
portant to both ? fs it not as important that our Government, the first of all to declare against 
the slave-trade, should see to the execution of its own purposes, as that England should ? Do 
we not give and enjoy the same rights as to merchant vessels ? And Maine and Massachu- 
setts—are they not satisfied that Great Britain has agreed to pay them, in her liberality, a 
price much greater for their lands than they could obtain in any other way ? I repeat it, it is 
a treaty equally honorable and advantageous to both parties. Neither has any reason for 
re g rc t_nothing to lessen the satisfaction which results from it. And so the mass of sensible 
men in both countries actually view the matter. 

This is not only well but highly important. Treaties, where one party has made a good 
bargain, as the phrase is, in other words, where one party has greatly the advantage, so that 
the whole affair is really onerous to the other, such treaties are never kept long. Some pre- 
tence for a quarrel, will speedily arise, as a matter of course, and then war, or a new negotia- 
tion, must take place. Let every lover of peace and of his country duly weigh these matters, 
and then say, if he can, how much better all is, in the present state of things, than spending 
unnumbered millions of money, shedding rivers of blood, embittering the feelings, for many 
years to come, of two great nations, related to each other as mother and daughter, and then 
leaving off the contest just where they began, would have been to those concerned, or to the 
world at large. . . 

But let us return more immediately to Mr. Webster. It is a question which will be asked, 
and one that I will not try to shun, did Mr. \V. remain stedfast to his Whig principles during 
all the time that he continued in the Cabinet? 

Unhesitatingly I answer, yes ; he was always, and invariably, the same that he had been. 



17 

Did he waver about the fiscal measures designed to relieve the country ? Not in the least. 
We have his public and solemn assurance that he gave his advice against the vetos of the 
President. There was some hazard in this, considering how exasperated the President was 
lest Mr. W. might thereby sacrifice his good will and confidence. Yet with Mr. \V. it was' 
a matter of principle and conscience, not to give any opinion that would compromise what he 
deemed to be the true interests of his country. He did not. The President would have been 
better pleased if Mr. W. had gone with him; but in consideration of the consistency which 
Mr. W. owed to himself, he overlooked his unwelcome advice, lias Mr. W. ever changed 
his opinion respecting any of these great measures, in relation to the circulating medium of 
the country — in regard to its fiscal concerns ? The speech designated at the°head of this 
article fully answers this question. 

Where then is Mr. W.'s apostacy or indifference, in respect to the great measures of the 
Whig party ? No where, not a trace of them can be found. Will it be said that his indif- 
ference was shown by his declining to leave the Cabinet ? We have seen that he had other 
entirely different, and abundantly sufficient reasons, for declining to quit his place. Will it 
be said that we can find ground i'or accusation in the tenor of his Tetters of Sept. 11 and Sept. 
13, 1841 ? If any one deems this so, I must respectfully solicit him to consider the condi- 
tion in which Mr. W. was then placed. On the one hand, he knew, and none but he, what 
preparation -work had been done in England, and what the reelings of the then British Cabinet 
were toward him and his country. On the other, nothing could be done, unless the President 
remained so far satisfied witli him as to give him his confidence, and thus aid, instead of im- 
peding, the negotiation hoped for and expected. How could he come out, then, and say 
openly, in his letters, what he thought of the veto, or what of the President's consistency ? It 
was impossible, unless he, with his eyes open, should consent to sacrifice the greater for the 
lesser good. He was bound in adamantine chains. The temper of the President would 
brook no opposition to his desperate measures. Mr. W. then was forced to confine himself 
to private advice, or give up the hope of serving his country in the manner that he had antici- 
pated. He decided, therefore, to prefer his country's good to his own reputation with the 
more strenuous of the Whig party. Is there a man in all the country that does not now 
thank him for it ? And if so, why should any burning desire be still felt, in the bosoms of 
some, to place him on the list of apostates from the Whig cause ? 

On the whole, I would now boldly make the appeal, and ask every man of candor, and in- 
genuousness, whether there ever was a statesman placed in more trying circumstances. I 
ask whether he could have said more than he did say, without risking "every thing" as to 
the objects he had in view. I do not say that, on the whole, it would not have been the wiser 
part to make no public communication relative to holding his place. But the pressure was 
immense, and absolutely intolerable. And if he must say any thing, how much more could 
he say than he has said ? To justify his colleagues, publicly, would be certain to offend the 
President. Not that the latter wished to retain them. But still, he did not wish to have them 
resign, and give such reasons as they did. For Mr. W. then openly to justify these reasons, 
would deprive him of all opportunity to serve the country in the way that he expected. 

Besides, it was Mr. W.'s deliberate judgment that resignation would disunite, weaken, and 
discomfit the Whig party, and therefore ought to be forborne. His judgment on this point 
has been shown by sad experience to be correct, whatever feeling his two letters may have 
excited. Shall we blame him for not saying that he concurred in the views of his colleagues, 
when he did not, and could not ? At least every generous minded man, who can appreciate 
the dreadfully trying circumstances in which he was placed, will answer in the negative. 

But the Faneuil Hall speech — that speech which cooled so many of Mr. W.'s ardent friends — 
what have you to say to that ? What apology can be made for it ? 

I answer, then, in the first place, that no one has yet shown, or can show, that by far the 
greater portion of that speech is not sound policy and good Whig principle. This must be 
conceded. In fact there are only two points in it, or perhaps three, so far as I know, which 
have ever given Mr. W.'s friends any particular umbrage. First, Mr. W. virtually blamed 
the Whig party that they did not unite in some of the fiscal plans which followed those that 
were vetoed. I am aware that this could hardly fail to give some offence. But is not the 
view which he gave of this subject substantially correct and just? Has not the country suf- 
fered beyond computation in consequence of not having a general and sure circulating me- 
dium ? Merchants have, at last, found out indeed a way for doing their own business, inas- 
much as the government refused to aid them ; and they will always do so, at last, if the gov- 
ernment will only let them alone and not interfere with them. But they may suffer and have 
suffered incalculably before this could be accomplished. The simple truth seems to be that 
there was more of resentment than of judgment and sound discretion in rejecting all the fiscal 
measures that were proposed ; yet I do not wonder, I never have wondered, that this was 
done, after such treatment as Congress had received from the President Yet what Mr. W. 



18 

said at Faneuil Hall on this point, I doubt not was wholly true. But I have ever regretted 
still, that it was said at that time and place. His auditors were not yet prepared to be told 

all the truth. . _ 

His second offence was, the expression of his disapprobation, that a nomination ol 1 resi- 
dent had been made in a large caucus, by a kind of acclamation. This could not fail to give 
offence, at the time, to those who had belonged to the caucus. Yet such has been, at last, 
the conviction of the public in relation to this subject, that they have virtually repealed the 
doings of that caucus, and agreed to submit the question to the general delegation of Whigs, 
who are to assemble at Baltimore. Is not this saying something in favor of Mr. W.'s saga- 
city and discrimination ? It seems like it. Indeed he was clearly in the right. But still, 
considering the excited state of feeling, it would perhaps have been better to say this at an- 
other time, and in another way. 

A third offence is, the manner in which he spoke of the tariff, from 1832 to 1840— that is, 
the descending scale of it It will be remembered that he opposed this strongly, at the time 
when it was agitated; and he has thought badly of it ever since, on account of its deleterious 
influence on the manufactures of our country. What he said in respect to this matter was 
conceded by Congress to be virtually true, in the establishment of a new tariff. That some 
have interpreted his speech as designed to give Mr. Clay a thrust tinder the fifth rib is, I 
must believe, more to be attributed to their suspicion than to Mr. W.'s design. It is not the 
manner of this gentleman to give the stabs of an assassin. When, where, how, has he ever 

done it ? - ' 

Let me make the appeal now to every man of candor in the community, and ask him, — after 
all the suspicions that had been thrown out respecting Mr. W., in some of the violent Whig 
papers ; after all the obloquy even which some of them had heaped upon him ; after the 
doubts and fears which some of his warm friends had for a while more or less admitted ; and 
being conscious at the same time of his steadfast adherence to the principles always advo- 
cated by him, and that he had sacrificed himself, if indeed he was, or was to be, sacrificed on 
the altar of his country's good— must not Mr. W., after all this, be either more or less than 
human, if he did not feel any degree of excitement ? This led him to say things respecting 
certain measures, that are now confessed to be true ; but which a large portion of his audi- 
ence were not then prepared to relish. This is the head and front of his offending. And is 
there a generous spirit in all our country that will not overlook a matter like this, in circum- 
stances so excessively trying ? 

Let us now look, for a moment, at other things which Mr. W. had to do, before he left the 
Cabinet. We shall see reason enough, as I think, to justify him for protracting his stay 
somewhat longer than Mr. Clay originally advised him to do. 

No one will question the immensity of labor which the treaty with England cost But 
this was far from being all the burden that Mr. W. was called to sustain. 

France had recently taken possession, very unexpectedly to Europe and to this country, of 
the Marquesas Islands. It may easily be conceived how Great Britain, with her spirit of 
colonizing, and the rights which she claims in relation to this subject, would feel. No 
sooner was this done by France, than she cast her eye upon the Sandwich Islands, as a kind 
of offset There was at least some show of right in this case— Great Britain had the right 
of discovery, so called — discovery by the famous Captain Cook. She had always felt that a 
kind of guardian relation over these islands belonged to her, although she had not practised 
the active exercise of guardianship. Yet no sooner had the French settled down in the 
Marquesas, than she devised a plan to make a similar descent upon the Sandwich Islands. 
Not to subjugate them, it may be, by war ; not to enforce her guardian power against the 
will of the people ; but to persuade them to choose her as a protector and a guardian. Lord 
Paulet was inconsiderately entrusted with an expedition to the islands. This rash and igno- 
rant manager made his debut there in the style that he had been familiar with, not improba- 
bly, in the cock-pit and the arena of pugilism. Not knowing the difference between prudent 
management and cock-turkey fierceness, he dashed upon the poor islanders, to their utter 
astonishment and confusion. Yet how came he to dash there ? And since he has done it, 
has he been reprimanded and dismissed from the service ? Not a word of all this. " He 
meant to do right; he meant to show a zeal for the interest of British subjects ; he meant to 
spread the terror of the British power the world around." All this, and more like to it, has 
been said in and out of Parliament. What does all this show ? It shows that Paulet, Cap- 
tain Bobadil as he was, went to the Sandwich Islands on an errand which would cover in 
part the sins that he had committed. 

Of this design of Great Britain Mr. W. had been for some time aware. Of course, when 
the ambassadors of the King of those islands came to Washington he was ready at once to 
acknowledge the independence and the supremacy of the islands. Forthwith he wrote to 
the British Ministry, telling them what we had done in America. He stated to Lord Aber- 



19 

deen that five-sixths of all the ships which go to Hawaii are from America, and that the 
United States had in a great measure civilized and Christianized the whole population, and 
were still expending many thousands of dollais every year, in order to complete this object. 
Of course, he added, if there were any claims on the part of justice and equity, to the 
guardianship of the Sandwich Islands, those claims belonged to us. He appealed to the 
magnanimity of the British Cabinet, therefore, in relation to this matter, and solicited them to 
follow our example, in acknowledging the independence of the islands. He closed by stat- 
ing, that under all the circumstances, he did not see how this country could stand still and 
see the Sandwich Islands taken possession of by another. 

The magnanimity of England is not often appealed to in vain. Lord Aberdeen saw at 
once the predicament in which England would be placed, in the eyes of Europe, and of this 
country. The result is known. Ships were despatched forthwith to tear down British flags, 
and hoist that of Kamehameha, which is now waving over all the country. We trust it will 
continue to wave, so long as our country does its duty. 

Nor was this all. Our ambassador at the Court of St. James interposed his good offices, 
in accordance with the wishes of Mr. W., and through the medium of the Queen of Bel- 
gium, the daughter of Louis Philippe, to whom the Sandwich Island ambassadors were intro- 
duced, an acknowledgement of independence was readily obtained from the King of France. 

But there was another, and a delicate matter between our country and Spain, which came 
upon Mr. W.'s hands. In her wretched condition, Spain became unable, and of course re- 
luctant to pay the remainder of monies due in the matter of indemnification. Mr. W. con- 
ferred with the Spanish ambassador. The latter acknowledged the claim, but stated the 
utter impossibility of satisfying it. Mr. W. at length informed him of certain things done 
for the welfare of his country, (which cannot by reason of propriety and delicacy be detailed 
here) that gave us peculiar claims upon Spain. These were generously acknowledged, and 
provision was eventually made for the interest of the sum still due. This has been punc- 
tually paid. 

In the midst of all these matters our Chinese relations came to be things of high interest 
and importance. Great Britain had virtually made the conquest of China, and imposed her 
own terms of peace. She had opened for her trade four other places besides Canton, almost as 
large as that city. What should America do at such a crisis ? Must we remain with liberty 
to trade only in Canton, and let our goods go only in British bottoms to other places ? — or 
should we stand upon our own footing, and enjoy our own rights, without any interposing 
power ? 

Of this there could be no question. Mr. W. at once recommended the President to lay 
before the houses of Congress the project of a Chinese mission. He did so. It was carried 
almost without a division. Mr. Cushing was at this time a great favorite with the President 
His ability to do the duty of ambassador to China was not to be questioned. Mr. W. ac- 
ceded to his appointment. The next step was, to furnish him with iyistructions. It took 
some two months to accomplish this. Never was any portion of Mr. W.'s life more labori- 
ously spent, than in preparing to furnish them. The difficulty of getting adequate informa- 
tion was almost insuperable, in consequence of foreigners having always been excluded from 
the country. At length Mr. W. achieved the work, so far as it could be done, and the in- 
structions were dated the 8th of May, 1843. 

That vert day was the date of Mr. W.'s resignation in the Cabinet. 

Now why, let me ask, did Mr. W. resign the first day, yea, hour, that all these great mat- 
ters were off his hands ? Why did he resign at all ? If he had left the Whig ranks, if he 
had ceased to sympathise with this party, why did he not continue in office ? The only answer 
is the one that he has given; and this is, that "he is a Whig, a Massachusetts Whig, a 
Faneuil Hall Whig." The great services for his country were now done. He had thrown 
himself into the breach, at the peril even of political life, at the peril of his character and 
influence as a statesman, and had saved his country from war, and established all her foreign 
relations. Even the affair of Mexico is not to be forgotten — a very troublesome affair, but 
easily disposed of by him. All was now peace, and was likely to be so. He might go then 
where his honest political convictions carried him ; and that was, to return to the ranks of 
Massachusetts Whigs, from which indeed some had excluded him, but without good reason, 
and against all true liberality and generosity of feeling. 

And now it is time to close this coup iFce.il of Mr. Webster's administration. How could 
I do any justice to him, or to others, in a shorter compass than I have taken ? 

I make the appeal now to all that is called candor, and justice, and liberality, and truth, 
and magnanimity, whether this distinguished statesman has been properly treated. I ask 
whether the violent Whig papers, some of which are still hinting their suspicions, if not 
venting their obloquy, are to be any longer upheld and justified in the course which they 
pursue. There is no man in the country, there never has been, who has done it so much 



20 

important diplomatic service, during the same length of time, that Mr. W. was Secretary of 
State. There is none, to say the least, more able to do it. Why then should he be abused 
for not having played the part of an obstreperous Whig, at a time when such a part would 
have defeated every thing that he has done ? I ask for a rational, considerate, candid, gen- 
erous answer to these questions. 

It is time that the community were possessed of just and proper information, in relation to 
these things. I have laid before them a true account of them. It is time that Mr. W. had 
some more ample justice done to his character and his labors. Nothing but a painful sense 
of the injustice done him has drawn these remarks from me; injustice, not designed at all, 
on the part of most, but done for want of adequate information. I hope it is not too late to 
have this whole matter righted in the eyes of the community. At least I shall be deeply 
affected on account of the injustice and folly of party spirit, if it cannot be. 

I cannot conclude without openly avowing that I have no electioneering objects in view. 
I disclaim and abjure them. Simple justice is all I ask for, in present circumstances. I 
have not engaged in this expose, I must also say, by any procurement, request, or effort what- 
ever, of Mr. Webster. Neither directly nor indirectly has he excited me, or tempted me, to 
make it. Whatever may come of my efforts, or however they may be estimated, no respon- 
sibility attaches to him. * '■ > ■ ■ • • 

Mr. W. now stands, indeed, a simple freeman, unchanged, unbought, treely, tully, a Whig 
of Massachusetts. He is a private citizen only ; and he never will be any thing more, until 
there is a general conviction that will do him some justice, if not exhibit some generosity. 
He asks for no remuneration. He wishes for no office. But he does believe, and must 
naturally cherish the hope, that sooner or later some justice will be done him. He does not 
even ask for this. But has he not a right to expect it? I can only add, that in my view, 
our country is uound in this case to do justice. The sooner the better. Such men as Mr. 
W. are not to be found every day ; and at all events our country does not so abound with 
them that we can afford to cast any of them away. 

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